"Money
don't seem to be scarce with you. Have you made your fortune in
America?"
He laid his hand on her arm, and pressed it warningly. "Hush!" he said,
under his breath. "We'll talk about that, after the lecture." His
bright shifty black eyes turned furtively towards Phoebe--and Mrs.
Sowler noticed it. The girl's savings in service had paid for his
jewelry and his fine clothes. She silently resented his rudeness in
telling her to "hold her tongue"; sitting, sullen, with her impudent
little nose in the air. Jervy tried to include her indirectly in his
conversation with his shabby old friend. "This young lady," he said,
"knows Mr. Goldenheart. She feels sure he'll break down; and we've come
here to see the fun. I don't hold with Socialism myself--I am for, what
my favourite newspaper calls, the Altar and the Throne. In short, my
politics are Conservative."
"Your politics are in your girl's pocket," muttered Mrs. Sowler. "How
long will her money last?"
Jervy turned a deaf ear to the interruption. "And what has brought you
here?" he went on, in his most ingratiating way. "Did you see the
advertisement in the papers?"
Mrs.
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